


We Can't Punch Good: A Love Story

by heartsinhay



Category: Motorcity
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsinhay/pseuds/heartsinhay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay. Okay. The usual approach isn't working. And you know what that means?  That's right. That means Texas needs to Texasify it. Even though he ain't real sure how he can Texasify Texas, if anyone can do it, it's Texas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can't Punch Good: A Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> Written for motorkink.

  Okay. Okay. The usual approach isn't working. And you know what that means?

  That's right. That means Texas needs to Texasify it. Even though he ain't real sure how he can Texasify Texas, if anyone can do it, it's Texas.

  (Yeah, Texas!)

 

  So. This is what he knows. He's been doing his thing, like, going up to Dutch and showing off his sweet kicks and fly punches and going _Hwa-kawwww_ , like he always does when he needs to flirt with a person, but—here’s the thing— _nothing happened_. Dutch just looked at him, all _Texas, whaaat_ and didn’t swoon or fall into Texas’s arms or nothing. He’d just shrugged and walked away.

  Walked away! From Texas! Like he didn’t even care that Texas was doing these cool Muay Thai moves just to impress him!

  Or… maybe it’s not that Dutch didn’t care. Maybe it’s that he didn’t notice. Maybe it’s that Dutch is so used to Texas flaunting his moves that he didn’t get the concentrated swoonage that would’ve hit anyone else. Maybe Dutch has developed immunity to Texas’s smooth moves.

  (Texas takes a moment here to imagine anti-Texas antibodies prowling around Dutch’s bloodstream and doing battle with all the Texas love microbes. It’s pretty awesome. Hwa-yah!)

 

  And immunity and all, it would’ve been fine if Texas’s second-most usual approach had worked.

  This is what happened:

  Texas was sitting on Whiptail with only a towel on, right? And his plan was that when Dutch came in, Texas would drop the towel, like, _oh yeah_ , and then they’d totally bang and then Dutch would fall in love with him. And it would’ve worked, too, if Texas hadn’t fallen asleep.

  Texas had woken up three hours later, cuddled up to Roth, with a blanket draped around his shoulders and a crick in his neck that didn’t go away for days.

  He couldn’t help it, okay? Not his fault Whiptail was so damn comfy.

 

  Anyway, Texas’s point is that whatever he did didn’t work. So he went to Mike, and they had this huge conversation that either means a) Dutch has to be real connected in a feelings way before he can realize that Texas is a total hunk and the burningest of the Burners or b) Texas’s main competition is a chick named Demi. So, okay, Texas has to go slow. Texas can do slow. Texas can Texas-ify slow. And when he’s through, they’re gonna have to rename “slow” “Texas”.

  Texas heads over to the garage to nab some paper and a pencil. He’s going to have to make a list.

  THINGS DUTCH LIKES

  1. Silence



  Dutch likes silence. Dutch really, really likes silence. Texas knows this because Dutch tells him, like, all the damn time. You know: “Texas, shut up!” “Texas, stop talking about Kane’s baby farms, I’m trying to concentrate!” “Texas, I’m trying to work here!” Blahbity blahbity blah.

  So, okay, Dutch, challenge accepted. Texas eats loud (slurping and munching and belching because he’s Texas and he can) and drives loud (Dutch’s tried to make Stronghorn run silent, but what Texas will never tell him is that the secret is in the way Texas drives) and even thinks loud (out loud, at maximum volume), but, today, Texas is going to be as quiet as a mouse. Quieter, even, ‘cause a mouse still squeaks and stuff and Texas ain’t making a sound.

  He walks over to the garage, where Dutch is painting again, and doesn’t ask him to beef up the Bolo Bumper. He doesn’t suggest that Dutch add at least fifteen more dragons to whatever he’s working on. He doesn’t yell “hi-yah” and doesn’t punch the tire stack until it topples over.

  After pretty much forever (like, ten minutes) of just standing around, not doing stuff gets old, so Texas pretends that he’s sneaking into Kane Tower and has to be super quiet, or else he’ll get caught. He practices walking silent, ducking behind walls to avoid soldiers and crawling through the air vents really, really, quietly. Even when he gets to attack Kane, he “hwa-chah”s in a whisper.

  He stealths around ninja style, totally Texasifying infiltration to a whole new level. Maybe he should get Julie to teach him her superspy Burner assassin moves. Texas bets he’d be a prodigy.

  (Texas takes a moment here to punch Kane.)

  When he puts his shades on to watch a movie, he doesn’t yell when the hero does something super awesome, even when it’s super mega ultra awesome, and doesn’t tell Dutch to _watch this, the hero’s almost as great as Texas and you might learn some moves_ and doesn’t try to get him to sing along to the training montage.

  Texas is boss at being quiet. He’s so stealthy that even Dutch is louder than he is. He can hear Dutch shifting weight from foot to foot, the clunk of can against floor as Dutch switches colors, the low hum in the back of Dutch’s throat as he considers his later masterpiece. Usually, all Texas can hear is Texas, and sometimes explosions. It’s kind of nice like this, but if he keeps it up, he’s probably going to have to drive all the way to Lake Michigan and scream as loud as he can for at least twenty minutes.

  “Hey, uh, Texas?” Dutch says.

  “Huh?” says Texas, and oh _shit_ he was supposed to be _quiet,_ but he guesses if Dutch started talking first, it doesn’t count.

  “You sure you’re alright? You haven’t said a thing since you walked in.”

  “Uh. Texas didn’t want to distract you with his awesome voice. I mean, let’s face it, my voice is so cool that once I start talking, nobody can concentrate on anything else.”

  “Yeah, right. I can usually tune you out as long as you’re not in my face, so you’re not that bad,” says, Dutch, turning back to his painting, “Besides, it feels kinda wrong without you doing your stuff in the background.”

  After making sure nobody’s watching, Texas adds a couple question marks after “silence”. Guess Dutch doesn’t like it so much after all. Jeez. Dutch is weird.

 

 

          2. Art

Texas isn’t so good at painting. He’d tried once, but somehow half the paint got onto the ceiling and the other half got into Jacob’s lettuce-applesauce brownies. Yeah. Nobody has any idea how that happened.

  What Texas can do, however, is draw. Give him a pen and paper, and he’ll produce all kinds of masterpieces. He’ll leave ‘em around for Dutch to find, and when Dutch finds them, he’ll be like _oh, Texas, this is so artistically dope_ , and then Texas’ll be like, _Yeah, you should paint a dragon and make it double dope_ , and then Dutch finally will.

  Texas draws dragons. Texas draws dragons, dinosaurs using dragons as weapons, dragons using dinosaurs using dragons as weapons as weapons and Dutch. One of these things is not like the others.

  So, yeah, Texas draws Dutch. He draws Dutch on a dragon and Dutch in Whiptail and Dutch painting a self-portrait and Dutch checking that his hair is perfect (which he does all the time, when he thinks nobody’s looking).

  “Hey,” says Dutch, holding up Texas’s greatest artistic accomplishment, “Who’s the guy with the huge chin and round hair supposed to be?”

  He labels all his drawings after that: DUTCH and YEAH TEXAAAAS and 9LIVES and GUNCHUCK WITH DRAGONS SHOOTING OUT OF ITS EYES AW YEAH ROAR.

  (Texas takes a moment here to look at some of Dutch’s stuff, because, whoa, it looks like one of Texas’s sweet Muay Thai kicks, if Texas’s sweet Muay Thai kicks were art. It looks like something that oughta be weaponized, you know?)

  “It’s not finished yet,” says Dutch, from somewhere under Mutt, “The one you’re looking at, I mean. It needs something more, but I can’t figure out what it is.” He throws his wrench out from under the car, and it bounces off the wall and into a toolbox on the other side of the room.

  Texas looks back at the painting. It’s a girl, orange hair, blue skin, savage-sweet with stars in her skin, a curl to her eyebrows and blood dripping from her teeth.

  “And don’t say that it needs more dragons,” says Dutch.

  “Wasn’t gonna,” says Texas, even though he totally was, “Thing looks more like a tiger, anyway.”

  Dutch hits his head on Mutt. He slides out, unfolds himself to full height, looks at the painting, all _whoa, I got something_. Texas would rather have a _whoa, Texas, you’re so awesome and I love you_ , but, hey, this is pretty nice, too.

  “Have fun, little man,” says Texas, slapping Dutch on the back (to jump start the art glands, which are totally a thing, no matter what Jacob says).

  “Texas, come on, I’m taller than you,” says Dutch, but in the faraway voice that means he’s going to start painting and isn’t gonna stop unless Kane himself waltzes down from Deluxe naked and starts pissing on Whiptail.

  The next day, Texas comes home from punching KaneCo buildings in the vital organs to find the painting in his room and Dutch standing in the doorway.

  “It’s for you,” says Dutch, “I mean. Half the idea’s yours, anyway.” He’s added black stripes to the hair and whiskers to the cheeks and this animal-looking glare to the eyes. The finished product looks more girl than tiger, more tiger than girl.

  “It’s,” says Texas, and he’s going to say “cool”, wants to say “cool”, tries to says “cool:, but the word that comes out of his mouth is “beautiful”. His eyes dart to Dutch, who’s smiling like someone erased his ability to frown, and okay, yeah, maybe “beautiful” was the right thing to say after all.

  Later, Texas finds a pile of papers in the corner of the tool table in the garage. He flips through them and recognizes his drawings, ink pen and crayon labels and sound effects included, right down to the first dragon with laser eyes he ever drew.  He grabs a piece of paper, scribbles down a sketch of him and Dutch and the girl-tiger/tiger-girl, and adds it to the pile.

 

 

          3. Food

  What’s the way to a man’s heart? Through the chest cavity, right! But the stomach works, too.

  Texas discovers this over breakfast. He’s eating some of (all right, a lot of) Jacob’s famous peanut-mayonnaise trifle and Dutch is eating toast. Texas pretends that the burger is Kane, who’s burger-sized because, duh, Texas invented a shrink ray, remember?

  (Texas takes a moment here to imagine Kane screaming in agony as he bites off his neck. Hwa-chomp! Hi-ya! Yeah, Texas!)

  “Texas,” says Dutch, “Texas, why.”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you have to scream and chew at the same time? That was literally the grossest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve lived through the zombie apocalypse.”

  “I was eating Kane,” says Texas, “And you’re pretty gross, too. You’ve got paint all over your toast. Hey, do you think your stomach’ll turn blue if you eat that?”

  “I got—shit! That’s not paint, that’s mold! Man, I can’t believe there isn’t any decent food in the entire garage.”

  “There’s this,” says Texas, opening his mouth so Dutch can see the chewed-up food on his tongue. Dutch cringes and puts his hands over his eyes, but Texas can tell he’s peeking.

  “Texas, that’s just nasty,” he says, laughing, “And I’m not sure you could even call Jacob’s stuff food. It’s more like a biological hazard. I’m talking about real food. You know, stuff that tastes good and doesn’t make you throw up.”

  “Hey, Dutch.”

  “Yeah?”

  Texas flexes his muscular neck and throat.

  “Wanna see Texas throw up?”

 

  Actually, this gives Texas an idea (the food, not the barf).

  He drives down to Panda Garden and barters a week’s worth of carrying stuff and punching customers who dine and dash for some dumpling skins and pork, and promises Jacob to pay off all his I.O.U.s by the end of the decade in exchange for some vegetables.

  He’s going to make dumplings, like on _Cyborg Dan: Kung Fu Chef_. It’ll be easy—if Jacob can cook, then so can Texas. He can almost taste them already. They’ll be delicious, Dutch is totally going to appreciate the crap out of them, and nobody’ll throw up. Well, maybe Texas will, but only if he sees Kane. Ka-chaw!

  He chops up his ingredients with the knife he borrowed from Jacob (he had to write another I.O.U. for that), and doesn’t cut himself because he has mad skills. He’s almost like Cyborg Dan on Kung Fu Chef, except Cyborg Dan has to cook and show off sweet martial arts moves and talk about making Mike Chilton pay at the same time. Texas thinks Mike is a cool guy who doesn’t need to pay him anything, but, hey, two out of three ain’t bad.

  “What’s that?”

  Texas turns around. Dutch is standing in the doorway, like _Texas, please tell me that’s not rat brains_ , Roth doing this neat loop-de-loop trick around his head. Texas kind of wishes he had a robot sidekick, too, but an awesome one with beefy muscles (like Texas’s) and phoenix DNA and katana eyes.

  “I’m making dumplings,” says Texas, “For dinner, but if we have any left over, we can poison in them and send them to Kane.”

  “Right,” says Dutch, looking into the pot like he expects it to grow teeth and start attacking people, “Need any help?”

  “Me? Need help? Like hell,” he says, “But, if you want, I can teach you. You can be my food apprentice.”

  Dutch rolls his eyes, but sits down anyway.

 

 

          4. Mechanics

  Okay, this one Texas doesn’t plan, honest. This one just happened.

  Texas had been sitting in the kitchen, and him and Dutch were trying to figure out how to roast a chicken. _Cyborg Dan: Kung Fu Chef_  hadn’t had any episodes about that. Dutch is talking about why he can’t make a turbo fast super engine for Whiptail.

  “And I’d need another Ford-based calibrator, and nobody’s been able to find any 5000 models for months—“

  “A what?”

  “You call it the taco hat thing.”

  And that woulda been the end of it, except, the next day, Texas goes down by the old stadium, ‘cause he’s just seen this one movie where the guy was training how to be a total combat badass under a waterfall, and, dang, Texas has to do that too. Even though the waterfall is all gross wastewater from Deluxe, standing next to it is pretty much the same thing, right?

  Texas passes an old wreck of a motorbike, and stops Stronghorn to see if there’s any money still in there. Hey, he wrote Jacob a whole lot of I.O.U.s, okay? He pushes the bike over and, well, whaddaya know, there’s the taco hat thingy, good as new.

  So he goes back to HQ and down to the garage and tosses the taco hat thingy at Dutch’s head.

  “Hey, Dutch, catch this,” he yells. Dutch ducks, because Texas does this a lot, and gets pieces of paper and gummy bears and stuff stuck in his ‘fro, but Roth catches the taco hat thingy and says, _Oh, Texas, my man, you are just the most radical bro, also my creator is totally in love with you because you are just so dang rad_. Or, you know, that’s what he’d say if he could talk. It’s okay, Roth. Daddy Texas understands.

  Anyway, Roth shows Dutch the thing, and Dutch’s face goes all… all soft like, and Dutch smiles this smile that makes his nose get all crinkly and eyes go all bright, and. Yeah. That’s kind of why this becomes pretty much a Thing. Texas just struts around town, doing whatever, and if he just happens to find a part Dutch’s been yearning after for months, it’s really no big deal. And if Texas sneaks a good long stare at Dutch and his stupid pretty happy face, then that’s his business and nobody else’s.

  Then this happens: Texas gives Dutch this thing that kinda looks like the love child of an engine and Kane’s chest hair (damn thing was so hard to find that it probably is, too), and Dutch gets his happy groove on, and everything’s good with the city, right?

  Wrong! ‘Cause Dutch gives him this look, and says:

  “Texas, are you in a cult?”

  “No, but I bet we could get Kane to join one, and make him go down to Motor City for a secret initiation ceremony, except the secret initiation ceremony is a _lie_  and  _I punch Kane_.”

  “Cool, “ says Dutch, but he’s still got that look, and now Texas knows something is wrong, ‘cause usually this is the part where Dutch bitches about Texas’s totally awesome plan and does this gesture that’s supposed to mean _back pocket_  but actually looks like it means _hey, Texas, check out my nice ass_.

  The entire week is like this:

  “Texas, are you on drugs?”

  “Texas, did you do something wrong? You can tell me, I promise I won’t get mad. Okay, that was a lie, I’m probably gonna get mad. But only if it’s really, really, wrong.”

  “Texas, you know I’m not gonna make you a dragon no matter how nice you are to me, right?”

  And Dutch keeps on giving Texas this stare, half soft and half pinched, like he’s looking at this cute puppy that also has contagious terminal cancer and just gave him cancer, too. It kinda sucks.

 

  Finally, Dutch snaps. He’s looking at a screen of some stupid magazine site:

  (Dear Miss Motorteen,

  One of my friends has started giving me these random presents. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, and they’re always stuff I really need, but, up till now, I didn’t even think the guy listened to anything I said. All of a sudden, he’s Mr. Sensitive, and I don’t get it. And now that I think about it, he’s started acting really weird around me. Like, weirder than usual, which is saying a lot.

  Anyway, my question is, should I think this is cute or worrying? I mean, is this a warning sign? Should I stage an intervention?

  Signed,

  Bemused By Mr. Nice Guy

  PS: Can I have your number?)

  “Hey, teen queen,” says Texas, “I got you something.” He hands him the thing he got from that bot, the intestine cake thing. Dutch turns off the screen so fast you could practically swear it was porn. Of Kane. Then he turns to Texas, all business all of a sudden.

  “Texas, what’s up with this?”

  “What’s up with what?”

  “What’s up with giving me all this stuff? Look, Texas, I can’t believe I’m saying this, I’m your friend and I’m worried about you, okay? So just tell me what’s wrong and stop freaking me out.”

  “Yeah, you’re my best friend, too,” says Texas, and goes bright red and pulls his baseball cap down over his face, because 1: Dutch said that Texas was his friend, not his _best_  friend, and 2: how much more of a goddamn girl can Texas _be_ , huh?

  “Technically,” says Dutch, and Texas pulls his cap even lower, way over his eyes, “Technically, Roth’s my best friend. But you’re second.”

  Texas carefully levers the brim of his hat back upwards. Hey, he can see again!

  “Your best friend’s a robot you built yourself?” he says, “Nerd.”

  “Yeah, well, your best friend is a guy whose best friend is a robot he made himself. Loser,” says Dutch, but hey, the happy face’s back (Happy Face 2: the Return of the Happy Face, or maybe Happy Face the Sequel: the Happy Face Strikes Back), and Texas doesn’t need a mirror to show him that he’s doing the happy face, too.

  “Everything’s fine, Dutch,” he says, and it is.

 

 

          5. Roth

  “No,” says Dutch, “We are not turning Roth’s arms into lasers. That is not a good idea.”

  “Roth says it’s a good idea,” says Texas. Roth whirs. Texas can only assume that means _Yeah, Texas, you tell him!_

  “Roth can’t say anything,: says Dutch, waving his paint can for emphasis, “Because he can’t speak.”

  “And whose fault is that, huh?”

  Dutch throws the paint can at him. Roth catches it midair.

 

  Texas figures this is kind of like the movies where the stepkid hates the stepdad and tries to make his life a living hell, until they have a bonding experience and the stepkid realizes that nobody’s trying to replace his real dad, except Dutch and Texas aren’t married (Texas is still working on that) and Texas is pretty sure Roth doesn’t hate him. Just in case, though, he decides to take Roth for a bonding experience: he’s going to teach the little guy how to dance.

  Texas is an awesome teacher. He can totally understand everything Roth says, like he’s a robot whisperer, except Texas never whispers. Robot shouter? Robot ass-kicker? Nah, that one’d be, like, child abuse, even though Texas totally kicks robots other than Roth’s asses a whole lot.

  He’s halfway through figuring that out and teaching Roth how to do the Robot (Texas cracks himself up sometimes, and he is an excellent multitasker) when Dutch pokes hi head through the doorway and asks him what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

  “Teaching Roth how to dance,” says Texas, “You can try, too, Wanna show him some of your moves?”

  (Texas takes a moment here to think up a plan. He’s going to get Dutch to start dancing, then both of them are going to start dancing together, then Dutch is going to have a love epiphany and ask Mike for Texas’s hand in marriage.)

  (Texas takes another moment here to realize that he’s a goddamn genius.)

  “I don’t dance,” says Dutch.

  “I can teach you,” says Texas, adding _impress Dutch with mad teaching skills_  to the plan.

  “I never said I couldn’t dance,” says Dutch, “I only said I don’t.”

  “You can dance?”

  “Yeah, I can dance, big surprise.”

  “Prove it.”

  Dutch just smiles, sharp as scorpions. (It’s kinda hot.)

 

  They have a dance-off, and make Julie judge.

  “You’re both  terrible,” she says, “You’re both terrible, and Roth won.”

  Both of them call her Hortense for a week.

 

 

          6. Boring-ass music

 

  Dutch has the worst taste in music ever. He only listens to orchestra music, like, Beethoven and Mozart and jazz, and slow, plinky songs by ladies who cry into their pianos a lot.  You know, boring stuff you can’t punch to the beat to. And he never uses headphones, either: says they mess with the acoustics. It’s a Deluxe thing, probably, or maybe just a Dutch thing.

  Oh, the sacrifices Texas makes for his plan. Next time he hears Dutch jamming to the beat of a single lonely violin, instead of laughing or calling Dutch a wimp who only listens to old lady songs, Texas settles down next to Dutch and pretends to appreciate being bored to death.

  He moves a bit closer, to where Dutch is sitting, so close that their elbows almost touch. Dutch looks at him. Texas pretends he isn’t looking at him.

  “What’s this one called?” he asks, leaning over to poke at the screen, “It oughta be louder.”

  “Texas!” says Dutch, turning the volume back down, “You can’t blast Bach, okay? You just can’t.”

  “I just did,” Texas says, slinging an arm up and over Dutch’s shoulders, real smooth, “And it was awesome.” He does the finger-gun thing Mike’s always doing, and winks.

  Dutch says nothing. 

“  You gotta admit it was pretty Texasified,” says Texas, “You don’t need to thank Texas. I live to bring awesomeness and sparkle to your sad little lives. I don’t know what you’d do without me.”

  Dutch says silent.

  “You’d probably fall over all the time and cry or whatever if I wasn’t around,” says Texas, “And the Burners’d never win any fights, like, ever.”

  Dutch is so quiet that Texas has to sneak a peek at him just to make sure he hasn’t passed out or died or something. He’s just looking at Texas like he’s never seen a totally awesome dude in a black and red jumpsuit before , forehead wrinkled, eyes wide. He’s looking at Texas like he’s never going to look away. His shoulders are tense against Texas’s arm, and Texas can feel them move when Dutch breathes.

  “Hey, uh. You okay?”

  “I don’t get you, Texas,” he says, real quiet, real calm, “I just don’t.”

  Dutch shifts just a bit closer to him, and now they’re close to each other, so close, and, maybe it’s just Texas, but it looks kind of like Dutch is leaning in and—

  “Hey, I love this song!”

  Dutch jerks away from Texas, almost hitting him in the face with his chin. Chuck sits on the edge of the booth, next to Texas, flipping his hair to the tune.

  “Go _away_ , Julie,” says Texas. Chuck gives him that look that means _I am super pissed at you right now, but I’m not gonna take it out on you until we go LARPing this weekend, so get ready for a world of pain, buster_. Texas gives him the look that means _Sorry, Lord Vanquisher, please don’t make me guard the van for the entire weekend_. Chuck gives him the look that means  _We’ll see_.

 

 

            7.Texas’s Abs

  Texas discovers this one by complete accident.

  He’s washing Stronghorn, right? And it’s kinda hot out, so Texas has to go shirtless, or else he’ll sweat to death. He’s telling Dutch about all the sweet new upgrades Dutch totally has to make when he notices that Dutch has gone completely quiet, and not in the way that means Texas is being ignored. So Texas just keeps on talking and washing Stronghorn, and then he suepr casually looks up at Dutch, and. Wait. Is Dutch checking him out?

  No way. Dutch never checks him out. Like, never. He sees Texas shirtless all the time, but he never even notices.

  But the evidence is undeniable: Dutch is totally checking him out. His eyes are all glazed, and he looks kinda like he just got punched and has to settle down a while and try to remember how to spell “concussion” and his eyes are. Right. On. Texas’s. Abs.

  So, okay, cool. Texas can work with that. Texas can totally work with that.

  Next day, he just starts walking around shirtless. He unzips his jumpsuit halfway and ties the sleeves around his waist and pretends he isn’t watching Dutch watching him practicing hi sdope martial arts moves. He stumbles over to Dutch’s room in his underwear to ask if there’s any toothpaste he can borrow, and tries not to laugh at Dutch looking almost like he wants to dies, because, okay, this is kinda hilarious.

  (Texas takes a moment here to consider walking around naked, with his junk hanging out like it ain’t no thang, but the last time he did that, Chuck started screaming and Julie took pictures and Mike made him put pants on and Dutch wasn’t even in the _room_.)

  It’s about time Dutch noticed that Texas is fine, really. Texas noticed ages ago. Dutch is fine, too, but in this long, lanky way that makes Texas think of wineglasses and chandeliers and dudes in monocles and cocktail dresses.

  (Texas takes a moment here to imagine Dutch in a cocktail dress, and then has to take another to jerk off a little.)

  Day after that, Dutch walks into the garage and sees Texas sitting shirtless on Whiptail and teaching Roth to play poker.

  “Would you,” says Dutch, pausing like he’s run out of breath and focusing on somewhere above Texas’s eyebrows, “Would you please put a shirt on?”

  “Sure,” says Texas, struggling into his jumpsuit sleeves and pulling his zipper up , slowly. Really slowly. Almost like he's been transformed into a snail, except snails don't have opposable thumbs and can't zip anything up, and snails don't wear jumpsuits, and, okay, maybe it's not like he's a snail, but _still_. Dutch makes a noise like he's been strangled, then a noise like he's been choked, then a noise that just sounds kind of annoyed.

 

  This is when Texas gets an idea.

   “Whoops. Looks like it’s stuck,” he says, shooting Dutch his charmingest smile, “Zip me up?”

  Dutch goes bright red and walks out of the room.

  “Fucking hell,” says Texas, slumping over onto the car.

  Roth zips him up.

 

            8.

  So maybe Texas mopes a little. So maybe Texas mopes a lot. Maybe Texas drives around in Stronghorn until early o’clock and punches stuff and eats muscle mulch straight out of the carton and cries. Maybe he kicks a couple walls and pokes empty buildings with his gunchucks until they start falling apart and thinks seriously about taking over the Terrists and never seeing Dutch ever again.

  Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t. All that matters is, when the fantasies of running away turn into fantasies of meeting Dutch again five years later and realizing that The One Who Got Away is also The One, Texas gets right back in Stronghorn and pulls out the list of things Dutch likes, trying to figure out what went wrong.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Dutch taps the window. Texas drops the list. Oh, no. Oh, fuck. Did Dutch see anything? Texas’s brain goes a hundred miles a minute, fight or flight, and, eventually decides on fight and flight. Texas is going to punch something. Texas is going to punch something, and then he’s going to run.

  “Wufarucghkmll,” says Texas, which is what you get when you try to say _well_ , _um_ , _fuck_  and _argh_  at the same time, “Nothing! It’s just a, uh, plan. To defeat Kane. It’s awesome, but I gotta show it to Mike before I let any of you yahoos look at it.” He punches Stronghorn, shoves open the door, and runs away backwards, nearly tripping over Roth.

  He slows back down once he’s in his room, reaching into his pocket for the—

  He dropped the list. He dropped the list, and left it in Stronghorn, which is where Dutch is, and _Texas dropped the list_.

  (Texas takes a moment here to scream a little and punch his door in the face.)

  “Hey, uh, are you okay?” and there’s Julie, looking through the hole he just made.

  “No!” he says, then, “Wait, actually, maybe yes. Julie, I need your help. I dropped this thing near Dutch, and I need you to use your secret agent moves to infiltrate or something and steal it back before he reads it.”

  “If he saw you dropping it, he’s probably already read it by now,” says Julie, “But if he didn’t notice, it’s probably still there. Want me to go get it?”

  “Could you erase the thing from reality?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Do you have a time machine?”

  “Uh…”

  “Can you wipe his memory?”

  “Not unless KaneCo R&D gets a lot smarter real fast.”

  “Lydia, you are the worst secret agent ever.”

  “Gee, thanks, Texas. I feel really confident in my abilities now. What’s this even for, anyway?”

  Okay, back to Plan B. He’ll get to Stronghorn, drive away to take over the Terrists, and live in their funky mushroom kingdom forever.

  Down the hall, off the ledge, and… And Dutch is standing right next to Stronghorn, holding the list.

  Texas is going to die. His embarrassment receptors are going to overload his brain, or he’s going to blush so hard his face’ll get hot enough to boil his blood. Either way, Texas is going to die. It’s like, science or something.  Dutch’s looking at him like he’s expecting him to start talking, but, joke’s on Dutch, ‘cause Texas is too busy dying to say anything.

  “This,” he says, holding the list like it’s a dead turd, “Is the stupidest plan I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s a Texasified plan.”

  “Yeah, same thing. It’s missing the most important part.”

  Dutch looks at him like he’s expecting Texas to know what comes next, but, hey, Texas isn’t a mind-reader or anything. He knows. This one time, he tried to activate any latent telepathy powers he had. It didn’t work and it gave him a headache.

  “You know,” says Dutch, after it’s pretty crystal clear that Texas isn’t saying anything, “The part where you actually ask me out?”

  “Oh, uh, yeah, that par—“

  Dutch kisses him. His hands dig into Texas’s shoulders a bit too much, and he has to hunker down a little, which makes Texas feel kinda short, but he’s pretty good at this, slow and soft and sweet, and even better when he lets Texas lead.

  (Texas takes a moment here to make a note to invest in high heels. Rate things are going, he’s probably going to need them.)

  “Now would be a good time to ask me out,” says Dutch, into the top of Texas’s head.

  “There’s this restaurant,” says Texas, “And, get this, it’s right next to a huge, broken-down, roller coaster. I could drive you there.”

  “You mean, _I_  could drive _you_ there.”

  “You could make our cars combine into a giant robot, and we could both pilot it there.”

  “Or we could race each other.”

  “Last one there’s a rotten egg.”

  “Hey—wait, Texas, I don’t know the address! Texas!”

 

  The restaurant’s nice. Nobody throws up, at least, and the food’s good. The lighting’s neon, not candle, and Texas didn’t have time to get some greenhouse flowers or nice-looking fungi, but this has got to be the most romantic date he’s ever had.

  “I’m just saying, he says to Dutch, “If we got Julie to sneak one of those huge mutant rats into Deluxe and hold it above Kane’s face when he’s sleeping, the farts would probably drive him crazy.”

  “If she unleashed a whole bunch of those nasty rats in the air vents, KaneCo’d stink for days,” Dutch replies.

  “Yeah,” says Texas, “Yeah, that’s a good one.” He can almost smell it.

 

  Later, they drive up to the old rollercoaster, climb right up to the top, and stare down at the neon sprawl of the city, naming signs like constellations.

  “That one’s Antonio’s,” says Dutch, and when Texas start saying that Antonio’s halfway across the city, you can’t see it ‘less you’ve got bionic eyes, “No, look, just look at that color. It’s Antonio’s. And the way it’s flickering—we trashed the place last week, remember? And I haven’t gotten around to fixing the lights yet.”

  “That one’s the Duke’s place,” says Texas, “Over there, the one with the fireworks. It’s too bright to be anything else.”

  “And that one right below us,” says Dutch, in the most dignified Deluxe voice Texas’s ever heard him use, “Is a strip club.” He points out the pink sign, in the outline of a naked lady. Texas laughs so hard he almost falls off the coaster.

  The city’s real pretty, though, strip clubs and faraway gang shootouts and all: bright signs and brighter headlights and Dutch right next to them. There are fireworks when they kiss, red-white-yellow in the distance, and if they just happen to form the Duke’s face in midair, well, Texas wasn’t looking at them all that much anyway.

 

  On the way back, Dutch gives him a crumpled-up piece of paper.

  “This way, we’re even,” he says. Texas reads it:

  WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH TEXAS

  1. Dropped on head as baby
  2. Born like that
  3. Strangely addictive (can’t stop hanging out with the guy, it’s weird)
  4. Keeps on giving me stuff (cult?)
  5. On drugs?
  6. Guilty? Check to see if he trashed Whiptail again
  7. Trying to bribe me into making something for him by being extra nice all the time
  8. Just a genuinely sweet guy ~~(haha, AS IF)~~ Okay, maybe
  9. Miss Motorteen gave me the WORST ADVICE EVER, also her number. Not gonna call her, because that's what you get for being TERRIBLE at EVERYTHING. No way is Texas secretly in love with me!
  10. Called Miss Motorteen, asked about lousy advice. Miss Motorteen is actually Mike (what the fuck, when did that happen?) and gave me the same stupid-ass advice, even when I told him it was me and Texas. Fuck.
  11. Pretty hilarious, if you get how he thinks
  12. Terrible dancer, feelings of inadequacy? (Him, not me, no matter what ~~Julie~~ Hortense says)
  13. Grows on you like fungus. Yesterday, I caught myself thinking that he was actually a pretty cool guy.
  14. Now that I think about it, maybe he is actually a pretty cool guy.
  15.  Psychologists.net says I’m the crazy one and Texas is a figment of my imagination. Fuck them; they’re not even real psychologists, anyway.
  16. Killer abs (how the fuck did TEXAS get HOT???)
  17. “Can’t stop hanging out with the guy?” “Genuinely sweet?” “Pretty hilarious?” “Get how he thinks”? “Actually a pretty cool guy?” “ _Killer abs????”_  What the hell is wrong with ME?
  18. Love



 

  (Texas takes a moment here to frame this and put it on his wall.)

**Author's Note:**

> All the thanks to OP, who is excellent and did amazing fanart here ( http://plaidypus.tumblr.com/post/31182211167/so-i-got-an-utterly-perfect-fill-for-a-request-on ).


End file.
